Wine, Roses, and Psychosis
by Crazy Hopeless Romantic
Summary: ( GRAPHIC SERIAL KILLERS AND SEX ) The most prolific of serial killers, the All-American Ripper, is believed to reside currently in New York. NYPD however requests Spencer Reid specifically after they learn he is similar to the killer in many ways. He doubts himself but he accepts the task to go alone as the BAU takes cases. Can he catch this killer genius or perhaps love them?
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome to my Reid fanfic, Wine, Roses, and Psychosis. I do hope you realize I intend to be graphic and get worse as the story unfolds. This is a story with murder, rape, bestiality, and is extremely detailed when important scenes are concerned. This is **not **porn without plot, there is a plot. This is guyXguy so if you are homophobic, ( I don't understand this fear actually ) you might want to leave. This does explore a different outtake on love however and also covers possibilities that I don't believe are covered enough in the cases of serial killers. ( Or life in general.) Anywho, enjoy chapter one please._

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><p><strong><span>All-American Ripper<span>**

It's a normal Saturday night in the land of the free, the country of equal opportunity, and a place for people to lead the American dream. What is the American dream though? To start with nothing and progress up the social ladder? To leave one's caste and escalate into a higher rank, a life full of fortune and luxury? Or is it simply to possess what the great Declaration of Independence states? The right to life, uncontrolled by another... Liberty, the privilege in having a voice in the ways one is governed by all whom he chooses, and the way he shall be protected by it in return... Or the pursuit of happiness in which there are no immoral restrictions to hinder any one person from lusting after that which gives him emotional, physical, or psychological gratification, a complete absence of barriers preventing the lowly existence of one who is unsatisfied with his or her life?

Immoral restrictions...that's the key phrase isn't it? It is wrong to deprive any of their ambitions isn't it? That is until it impacts others in a way that is deemed by society as negative in effects. And yet, society in itself is but an illusion isn't it? Similar states of morality allow us all to feel some nonexistent sense of unity with those we deem as equal to us in imaginary standards we set for ourselves. We allow ourselves to believe that because we reside in a certain place, because we look a certain way, because we choose either to embrace rationality or primal instinct that we are one. When in reality, isn't it just the opposite? Are we not trying to mirage the fact that we are indeed alone in this life by inventing some illusion of belonging with separate and alien minds and beings? We question our own existence daily in religion and science and yet we never question our purpose.

Alien minds...Isn't that the most precious right any of us possess? A freedom of dwelling within that which we are familiar? The greatest of gifts given to us by no doubt a benevolent Creator? But then, some are not so fortunate as to understand that which they cannot separate from, a foreign relationship with even themselves. At one point this was thought to be the truth of humanity by a mind that had left the conformity of the status quo at an early age, unchanging even as progress molded them physically and emotionally. The mind it seemed, was so easily as stubborn as the ass who would no longer pull it's master's load, that it within itself, seemed an individual entity. Man's greatest stranger and foe is, without question, himself, because it is the one thing he will never completely know...

.

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Families from all over the seemingly prosperous nation tune in at a late hour, one of their luxuries they take for granted on their precious weekends. The news, the ultimate means of keeping people informed of the events thought ought to be made public intelligence, was being cast in New York. Innocent families listened as it was reported with undervalued pleasure that a third month had passed without incident from the most terrifying thing since the fall of the Twin Towers, a serial killer of infamous proportions. The joy was brief, the killer thought to have given up or to have been detained or killed, no further thought given to the subject. Without even a pause to reflect on the gracious announcement, the next most important topic is introduced...

"And now, George Otto with the weather..."

The average viewer at home could not hear the shout within the building broadcasting the feed. It started from below as just a warning to some possible saboteur reporter from an enemy network, but the threats continued, fueling more shouts and a greater commotion. Then the first shot rang out. Shouts became screams, cries of utter terror...And just as suddenly as the first rang out, each voice was eventually silenced. The door of the live recording studio being splintered into a dozen pieces got the attention of not only everyone in the room, but in every home in the country. The cries of surprise and instant fear experienced through the screen was enough to make the most hardened of soldiers flinch, and as the two reporters jumped up from their seats, tremble. A moment passed before the screens became static, the faces of the network disappearing in the haze. Apprehension knawed at the consciousness of any and all who watched, worry emanated from those who believed it's validity, and skeptics were soon proved to be dead wrong.

Upon the return of life to the cameras and the footage which they provided the true being behind the disturbance hid, silhouetted just enough, by shadow, and was distinguished by insignificant light in the background. The voice that followed, coming from this now seated figure, was heavily masked by a voice modifier. The greeting though emotionless enough held darkness unparalleled. "This program has been brought to you by blood, it's everywhere. That however, isn't my message I wish to convey to you. I do request with great urgency that any and all children that may be within your proximity leave immediately, as it is already their bedtime. Such visions are best left to the imaginations of you as parents and fellow adults." His voice echoed slightly and held a dominative tone, convincing viewers to comply without second thought. "Once that's done listen to me very carefully. You see, you all know me. I am disappointed however that you so easily forget me and my message. I am, like you, a human being that dwells within this idealistic country and lives as you do. I buy my groceries as you do, I experience pain as you do, and I luxuriate in the many pleasures that come with being a free American adult. Unlike you however I indulge in the sins of life and do not weep. I lust and act accordingly to my erotic desires. I feel avarice in that I procure things I believe I should have. I am a sloth in that I laze in thought when I hear of humanity's pointless struggles with one another. I am gluttonous in that I prey upon my fellow man as if he were reverted to the form he so desperately attempts to avoid in animosity. I envy you fools! For your ignorance and ability to secure yourself in the emotions of others! To act as yourself and be with one who accepts these faults! I am wrathful because I am disgusted at the filth men can become! I'm pissed! And I have pride, pride that I will get you to hear my cry and listen!" Who could ignore his call now? If it was even a he. "Three years ago I introduced myself in the fair state of Nevada with the death of a young woman named Alice Kirstein, recorded as missing and yet to be found. Her body, or at least what remains of it can be found in the floor that I now gaze upon. I leave it for you as proof that I. Am. Still. Here. I won't give you my name but I believe you know me by another anyway. Dormant for three months as an act of mercy, I am he who haunts your fears. I am the All-American Ripper. I tell you this and do what I do tonight to establish a challenge for the best of the best. Police, CSI, FBI, I want you to step up your game. My reign and body count and it's reflection on you as a whole is nothing short of embarrassing. And to those of you watching that are, like myself, interested in the functioning of the mind, I implore you to profile me, decipher me, I dare you and welcome it. Can you catch me? I have an intelligence quotient of 190, do you?"

With these thoughts, these challenges presented in the last moments before black befell the screen and the announcer had fled, America wondered just how safe they really were, and how naïve they had been to think they had been more so. Panic erupted throughout the country and calls came in from all over for them to catch this evil being that threatened lives. New York had been hit especially hard. While it had taken the response team twenty minutes to get out to the news station the perpetrator had left without difficulty, leaving behind an enormous body count and a single calling card. Who was he? Where was he now? What did he wish to portray in this endeavor? So many questions would erupt that could not be answered. Could anyone truly stop the All-American Ripper?

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><p>Raphael was just a simple redhead to the crowd, a handsome one with pale hazel eyes and a badge at that. He was from the United Kingdom originally, a great officer from Scotland Yard at one point, but he had rid himself of his accent through work, always finding an American one to be sexier anyway. He had been asked a few months back to assist in the investigation of the so called Ripper but leads had been as few as the decent people that could be found in New York. "The guy leaves no evidence even though he's erratic as fuck at times, he doesn't have a specific MO or kill signature, he's eluded capture for three years, never stays in the same place very long, and gets laid more than I have in my entire life..." Which was saying something to him because he slept with anything with two legs, why else was he in the same club he'd been going to for almost a week straight? There were some fine ladies and some able bodied fellas prancing about the place constantly and the drinks were to die for as well. Sadly the ginger had yet to find one he truly wanted for his dark intentions. Until...<p>

His entire being was entirely perfect, from his god-like chiseled form to his silken hair to his tall frame and gemstone eyes. "He-llo..." Raphael purred from his seat at the bar, wine in hand, white. The male he so desired was taller than even he at his height of 6 feet and wore tight fitting jeans with slices throughout them, giving tempting glimpses of bare skin of thickly muscled legs. His shirt was a tank that clung to his sturdy torso like a second skin and made the red head's mouth water. He wore heavy boots and he hid his eyes behind his hair. He just couldn't miss an opportunity such as this, not with such a perfect specimen before him. He turned to the barmaid quickly. "Hey, who's that guy?" he demands in an urgent tone. The young brunette blushes at his question, seeing just who he was referring to.

"He works here," she states. "He's the main attraction, the prime entertainment."

"Oh? How come I haven't seen him all week?"

"He's been on vacation. He hadn't taken a day off in a while." The redhead could tell the girl had the hots for him just as he did and probably had for a while.

"Can you give me his name?"

She shakes her head. "Club policy. We can only be called by our club names here. I'm Robin and he's...Crow." She purred the name like it was some sweet elixir that filled her with awe.

"Crow..." He would have this man if it was the last thing either of them did. He stood, discarded his drink and with swag to his step, approached the man. He didn't need to make his presence known, the male saw him coming and cast his eyes downward, pink dusting his cheeks and making Raphael smile. _'Looks like I've got a shy one. I bet he's a beast in bed though...' _"You look lonely," he coos, gesturing at the male's obvious solitude among the crowd. He shrugs, rubbing his arm in response.

"Sometimes." God even his voice was perfect! Not even Adonis himself could compare to this man's beauty.

"You say that as if you're used to it...Crow, is it?" He nods, his cheeks red. Raphael flashes an electric smile, knowing he wasn't as good looking as this man but he had the confidence to make up for it. "I find it hard to believe that a catch such as yourself has trouble finding company in a place like this. Such a sensual babe of your caliber must have men and women lined up for miles to gaze at that gorgeous face." The other bit his lip, turning slightly away in shyness but flattery. He grinned back at the red head and he knew that he'd been successful in catching his prey.

"You couldn't possibly mean that," he insists. "A man like you could surely find better company than me." He shakes his head.

"Trust me when I say that you are the hottest thing I have ever seen baby," he coos. He wanted him badly and the alcohol wasn't helping, everything was a red haze at this point as he closed the distance between them and gave a gentle rub against the male's thigh. "I could tell you all about how perfect you are in a more comfortable setting if you want." Crow didn't seem to mind at all, in fact he returned the gesture and looked up with lustrous bedroom eyes.

"Could you really?" he murmurs. "I could get us the perfect spot..." Raphael was more than eager to please the male that had him turned on and nodded, his lips moving to the man's neck and teasing lightly. He had to stand on his toes slightly but he made it a priority to get to the foreplay as soon as possible, nipping at the man's soft skin and grinding into his crotch as they fumbled their way through the crowd.

Between being drunk and getting lost in the foreplay Raphael didn't know where they had ended up, all he knew was there was a bed and he noticed handcuffs at both ends.. He had tossed away his clothes in a hurry as he then did with his partner. He stripped him down to his naked glory and made sure to put his lips over every part of his body. The area between his legs had been most fun since he discovered that his perfect Crow was even more gifted than he in size. "You're nice and thick aren't you? Perfect length too..." he coos. This made Crow flustered as his breath danced over his extremities. He hadn't much time to say anything since it was soon devoured by an eager mouth and he was left to moan and pant in hushed, angelic breaths.

Raphael couldn't remember the last time he'd entered a man so tight and he almost lost himself in the sheer pleasure of just pushing in for the first time. It didn't take much at all to tire him out and he found himself collapsing after only a few minutes. "What do you want to do to me babe? Do you want to pound me as much as I did you?" He wanted to instigate an alpha male reaction from his new favorite, see him indulge in his dark fantasies...

Oh did he comply. He sank down to Raphael's hips, his talented tongue darting out and making a dessert of the man's length, suckling and swirling around his head and sheathing to the base. How Raphael moaned and writhed with sheer pleasure as he had his wish granted. He knew that the male was shy from the start, but he also knew on instinct that he was a dominant, a seme, an alpha when it came to sex. He climaxed in his mouth, his semen trickling from those perfect lips. After a moment of lubricating Crow tended to his own erection and thrust into the smaller man beneath him, earning a sensual groan. He also admitted that Raphael was his best in a while, his above average length needing a smaller cavern to tend to it usually.

Raphael wasn't sure when the handcuffs clasped around his wrists but he didn't care, he was being filled and the last cry of his partner as he orgasmed was his last thought before Crow gave him a taunting smirk from above...

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><p><em>I warned against graphic content! I got to rant a little in this thankfully and I love that this is going to be one hell of a fanfic since I've always wanted to do this. Please let me hear any comments or questions you may have. I love reviews and chatting :) Until next time!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm back! I chose to make this particular story a priority one since my audience for my other fics is limited but I **do **have other stories so please forgive me if I take a while._

_TazzieLuv13: Much thanks to you for being the first to review :) Your enthusiasm absolutely touched me since you were so quick to share your thoughts even in so few a words. I hope I keep up the good work for you._

_Also just a random fact to share...Did you guys know that Mathew Gubler, our beloved Spencer Reid, was actually playing as bisexual throughout the beginning of season one? Up until it was hinted that he had a small crush on JJ, a.k.a. A.J. Cook, he was actually supposed to like both genders, but producers thought he would be more believable as straight since his character was already far fetched. So in other words, my representation is more accurate than the actual current one! Woot! Anyway, now that my fangirl moment is over, I present to you chapter two of Wine, Roses, and Psychosis. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong><span>Special Request<span>**

It was 8AM the follwing morning, a Sunday unparralled in Quantico, Virginia. The FBI had gotten call after call after the broadcast the previous morning, frantic peoples whose lives had been turned upside-down in their states of fear and disphoria. The nation had yet to see such a threat as to the extent of the Ripper before, one of such prowess... In other words, the BAU was in for the profile of their lives.

.

"Red, blue, green, red, blue, green..." Spencer had just finished arranging his case files in a nice chromial pattern in his filing cabinet, a random habit he had started recently. As per usual since before his...tragic encounter with his first love in months during the previous year, Spencer had gotten back into the rhythm of arriving at the BAU three hours before his designated time. His migraines were fewer but still present in his everday life, something he was begining to cope with as best he could.

His emotions were still being sealed within him, save for the few instances when his feellings became too much to handle and he vented to Rossi or Morgan. Even then however, Reid still never said everything that was on his mind. He had secrets that he'd never shared with the people he considered to be his family. For example he'd never once admitted that he'd found Derek attractive when they met, nor that he was even interested in men at all. The truth was, however, that he'd been bisexual most of his life and just happened to have a personal preference towards women. Then, that turned out **so** well for him in the end...

No matter how he pondered it he couldn't bring himself to even understand why he thought he had to keep certain secrets from his team. They had always been there for him, always supported him and had his back, there was no reason to doubt them, but in the end he always found it was better they not know everything about him.

He sighs, it was so frustrating. He didn't even have the luxury of having Maeve to call him anymore... He rearranged his office five or six times this morning already, and he was doing it again with the movement of his books on the shelf. He readjusted his plum tie against his violet shirt many a times over, smoothing over his sweater-vest as if someone was watching him. He hadn't felt very comfortable since the return from their last case the previous night. They hadn't gotten home until late in the night. He was on edge for some unknown reason though, he just couldn't figure out why...

"Reid?"

"Yeah?" He turned to the bearded Italian that had stepped into his doorway.

"Meeting in the briefing room, now." It seemed urgent.

"What's up?" Was he just anxious because he knew they were getting a new case?

"Something you're gonna wanna hear." That was all he said. Reid didn't argue either. He grabbed his file Rossi had brought him and some note paper for any thoughts he might have during the briefing and followed the older male without question. He also spotted Penelope and Morgan heading in as well. He greeted them both with good morning and the gesture was returned.

"Good morning my lovely genius!" Somewhat...

Spencer always thought Garcia was a bit too enthusiastic sometimes, he supposed she wasn't aware of just how severe the case was as of yet though. He wouldn't spoil it early for her.

"Mornin' Kid." Kid, Spencer had always been hesitant about accepting to be called that, he was thirty years old for crying out loud. Sure he was the youngest on the team and in most of the BAU but he was still an adult. He knew the nickname was in all good fun but sometimes it still bugged him. He guessed it just came with having a brotherly figure, being an only child.

Once everyone was seated they each began looking to the screen, at the same time that Hotch pulled up a newspaper clipping that was headlined from Las Vegas three years prior. _**'Missing Girl Still Yet to be**** Found'**_. The name read Alice Kirstein, she was exceedingly pretty, brunette with algae green eyes. She was also from Las Vegas which got Spencer's attention.

"Alice Kirstein went missing three years ago in downtown Las Vegas after partying with some friends, she left seperately and never returned home. Her family believed she was abducted since it was so unlike her to run off without telling someone."

"So Las Vegas police are calling us in to find one girl?" Morgan asks disbelievingly.

"That's the thing, she was found last night." Hotch hits a button on his remote, pulling up another tab, a video. "This was broadcasted last night nationally over the New York network." He hit play.

_'A news report?'_ Spencer thought? The first few minutes semmed like any ordinary airing, local crime, some stock updates, and a statement on the dormancy of the All-American Ripper... _'Why am I getting that strange feeling again?' _The mere mention of the Ripper had his gut crazy with butterflies, something wasn't right about this...

_**"And now, George Otto with the weather..."**_ That was when they heard it, the screams that only got louder and loouder in the background, the sudden shattering of wood as the door was **torn** open, the franic looks upon the faces of the newscasters as they scrambled from their seats... Poor Penelope was shivering in her seat, the screen temporarily going to static for a few short moments.

When the picture returned, Specer found himself unable to look away. The sillouhetted form that grabbed his attention from center screen practically demanded he listen up. Though no defining features could be made out, the entire posture radiated dominance and control. His voice, shielded by so many lace-overs of different voice modifiers, still seemed to grip him thorugh their disguise. His initial idea of a joke, 'This program is brought to you by blood, it's everywhere', was enough to get Garcia to refrain from watching from that point after. Though gruesome, he had to admit the line was clever, the unsub was definitely one for theatrics. He spoke at first with a calm demeanor and used articulate speech, something he found himself admiring, but then he surprised his audience by refering to his normal, everyday life, his individuality in what sins he reveled in. That was when he noticed a change in him, his speech became less professional and his tone became harsh and angry, something that for a split second had even Morgan trembling in his seat. What shocked Spencer the most though? The fact that what he was saying actually made sense. He could sense the urgency in his tone when he spoke of how he tuned out the great gossip in popculture and meaningless prattle of war that was so unecessary. How man had abandoned their instinctual needs for a world of refinement and dignity, and Spencer was a gentle being who believed in being civilized, but he could understand how one would severely desire for the world to recognize that we were not meant to be perfect. One part really stuck with him though, the unsub's envy. The envy of seeing others so effortlessly through life with a significant other that accepted all these faults in them, or so he assumed from the context and emotion. He too could relate to this. He thought he had found that significant other in Maeve, only to have her ripped from his grasp before he even got to touch her. This person wasn't just angry, they were in pain...

He knew he must be crazy for even sympathizing with an unsub like this, especially considering that they were most likely dealing with the most capable serial killer in all of history. He couldn't help it though, he felt as if maybe this person just needed someone to talk with, and if they had found that person earlier, if that might not have prevented all of this...

The video ended and for a moment, no one had anything to say. After that moment passed however, Morgan was the one to speak. "Alice Kirstein, her body was really found at the scene then?"

A nod from Hotch. "DNA results confirm that Kirstein's body was indeed left in the floor of the newsroom." He then pulled up the part Garcia refused to turn around for, the scene photos. "This, was her..." The picture was of a corpse naturally, but of one that was unlike a corpse in any way they'd ever seen. Young Alice's face was as rosy as the softest of tulips, as if she were merely sleeping, there wasn't a mark upon her skin, her clothes, modest and attractive on her young form. Morgan managed to coax Garcia into looking just once, and upon doing so was shocked at the condition of the body, paying no attention to the blood on the floor around her.

"She doesn't look like she's been dead for more than a few minutes," Prentiss notes in shock.

"Do we know time of death?" Morgan asks.

"Autopsy reports came back with traces of embalming fluid and cells showed signs of little to no degeneration, meaning that-"

"She was frozen and preserved for three years," Spencer finishes.

"But why would he keep her looking so pretty if he killed her three years ago?" Penelope wonders innocently.

"She could've been someone he knew, someone he cared for and couldn't let go?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Reid disagrees. "Most attempts at embalming a body end in some sort of degeneration after certain periods of time, especially when combined with cryogenics. Someone who was simply desperate to preserve a lost one wouldn't have been so capable. Plus, he gave her up in the end so that says he was never really emotionally attached to her." All nodded in agreeance as per usual. Rarely did anyone question his reasoning or knowledge on a subject.

"Semen was also found inside of her..." Hotch almost whispered it.

"He, raped her after he killed her?" Garcia chokes.

"Results shows they were intimate before her death and not a single time after. The samples were too polluted to match to DNA once again. He seems to make that priority before anything else with all of his victims."

"He can't go without being intimate with them, it's the one thing in his signature that seems to stay consistant with the victims he planned beforehand," Reid speculates.

"Maybe he wanted to remember his first kill then? She was a trophy of his first accomplishment." Rossi was closer to the point Spencer thought.

"For a first kill it was impressively done." Penelope nodded at Prentiss.

"This **is** the All-American Ripper..."

"Are we so sure? He's been known to have copycats. Let's not forget he always has a close second follow him wherever he strikes, the two of them together probably have a body count up in the thousands." On that Reid had to agree, the Ripper and his disciple had the highest body counts that he could think of in the field of serial killers, even more than "The Beast" of Columbia in South America. But...

"I'm almost certain that this is the real Ripper." Rossi seemed surprised and inquired as to why. "The copycat never makes a move that doesn't somehow follow in the Ripper's footsteps, he wouldn't do something so drastic without some sort of permission from his idol."

"How do you know they aren't working together?"

"While it's possible, the Ripper simply has too much pride to let himself be upstaged like that by an underling. He did this because he wants a challenge, someone who can challenge his genius and be a worthy opponent. It's like a chess game to him and he wants an interesting battle. He wants to be caught...it's like, he's tired of being above everyone else..." Was he speaking for the killer or for himself? Yes, he sometimes wished he wasn't smart like everyone saw him, sometimes he just wanted to be normal, but that could never happen...

"I have to agree with Reid on this one, the Ripper's specific calling card was found on the door of the front entrance when NYPD arrived at the scene." He pulled up the picture of the bloodied glass door, small red card with A.A.R. enscribed beautifully in black ink in the center. Thorns decorating the edges. That was his calling 'card' alright. "The calling card didn't resemble the copycats in that none of the bodies had been stuffed with flower petals and the organs were not removed beforehand."

"We can't simly judge that by whether or not the organs are intact though, sometimes he takes them and other times he leaves them. Sometimes he stabs them, sometimes he shoots them, sometimes he strangles them. He targets men, women, black, white, straight, gay...this guy doesn't **have** a specific signature. He never leaves finger prints even where there should be some, he never leaves hair or fibers, he never leaves the **slightest** clue other than a card we cant trace. It's impossible to profile a ghost Hotch." Morgan had a point. Even with the video Derek didn't think he had revealed enough about himself to form an accirate profile. Spencer had a different approach though, he knew more than the others did just by what he heard.

"Before I continue there is something else you should know," Hotch continues. Of course they all look to him expectantly. "NYPD is certain that the Ripper is still in the state and I don't disagree with them. Because they were the ones to ask for help we go by their terms and they have one. And that is that we send one specific member of our team."

"Hotch are you sure that's a good idea? If one of us goes we should all go. This case is gonna take all of us," Derek argues.

"Yes, it will take all of us, but we'll be helping from home while we take on other cases. This case could take months to work and with the Ripper's skills maybe years. The BAU can't afford to focus on one serial killer and ignore all others for that long. That's why Reid will be the only one going to New York." That fact hit Spencer in the gut like a rock. Him? Alone? In New York working a case he probably wasn't even fit to work?

"H-Hotch, I-I don't think I-"

"NYPD requested you specifically Spencer."

"I-I get that b-but why?!" Surely with his record in the last year they didn't want him for his capabilities?

"Taking into consideration how long the Ripper's been at large and that he has no reason to lie about his I.Q of over 190 they think that you're best suited for the job. In short Spencer you have some things in common with this unsub that the rest of us can only guess at, you can play at his level."

Spencer anxiously runs a hand over his face, suddenly very sweaty. "I just don't think I'm the right person for this, I mean with my past and with the past few months and the fact that I'm not a people person and-"

"Whoa Pretty Boy, slow down, breathe." He hadn't even realized he had been speaking without breathing. He inhales sharply, making up for the air he lost while trying to convince his boss to send Morgan or Prentiss, people who were better at dealing with people **and** investing, not just geographical profiling and spouting random facts at any given time.

"It's decided Reid, you'll be going to New York and working with the police department on this case until the Ripper seems to have moved on elsewhere. We'll be going up with you today to exchange information with the authorities and head back in the morning to work other cases. There's nothing to be worried about."

"You'll do fine Spence," J.J. tries.

"Definitely, if the super genius can't catch this guy then no one can," Prentiss adds. The gave him a boost, but it was one he didn't believe he deserved. Nevertheless, he couldn't very much deny now, he'd already been half convinced.

With a nervous swallow he nods, clutching his pencil rather harshly in his anxiety.

.

.

"I can't believe they requested you specifically for the job!" Garcia was expressing her excitement for the gazillionth time that morning as she and Spencer went over the plan for communication within the next few weeks in case he needed her for any on case information. Spencer had been trying to create mental profiles in his head but was so distracted by Garcia and his assignment that he was having trouble. Currently Garcia was looking through hotels in the area of where the police station was up in New York so that she could book them, of course being who she was she had to do thorough background checks on everyone who worked in each one. "And you know the drill, if you need anything, anything at all, just call and I will work my magic and show you the wonders of the otherworld my darling- DEAR LORD! Fifty-five years-old and married nine times? Oh great, only hires women too. No thank you, that is not nearly appropriate for my Avengers.."

Spencer was only half listening to her at the moment, how would he get by on his own? He didn't know anyone in New York! He didn't even know the general scope of the streets to find his way around. He could take the subways sure, it wasn't that far off from the metro but they only went to the bigger cities, they'd be stationed on the far end of Brooklyn and that was a considerable distance of walking just to get back to the hotel. Hotel. Crap, he'd have to find another apartment if it took too long while he was there...

"Damn it!"

Penelope immediately stopped what she was doing and looked back at the pacing brunette with wide eyes, surprised as one of his almost nonexistant curses escaped his lips. "Are you okay sweety?" she questions in her usual caring tone, desperate to find out what was bothering him.

"Honestly? I'm scared out of my freaking mind to be dropped in the middle of New York for a few months with no one and nothing familliar around me looking for the scariest human being on the planet who I may or may not be like in multiple ways! Have I left anything out?" Frankly Garcia could understand why he was nervous, he was going to be living in a foreign state with a killer potentially trying to sink a knife into his neck.

"You'll be alright, we're going up with you to help get you settled. Besides you can call whenever and we'll help in absolutely any way we can. Pinky promise!" Spencer trusted Garcia of course and she had such a calming and positive aura about her that he couldn't help but be reassured no matter how he thought he would truly fare. "You wanna look through these crummy men's lives with me?" she tempts with her bright smile. He couldn't resist, he pulled up a chair beside her.

"Let's see, eighty year-old widower, no kids, whoa...extensive police reocrd. Very naughty old man." He gave her a heartfelt laugh, somhow managing to make a grumpy old man seem like a pervert. She was just flipping through pictures of hotel owners now, stopping to make fun of their looks. "**Hel-lo!** Smoking hottie at twlve o'clock!" Spencer shouldn't have, but he dared to look. No name was shown because it hadn't been a requirment when Garcia was searching them, but the age and background information was there.

He was starstruck at the man pictured, he had an angular face and high cheekbones with a full face, golden blonde hair that fell to his neck styled so that it swept over his eyes. And god his eyes, they were a rare emerald green color, which includes only about less than half a percent of the entire human population by the way, that sharply contrasted with the rest of his face and his tanned skin. He felt as if these eyes alone could peer into his very soul and hold him captive for eternity. He was twenty-five according to the file and had quite the interesting past as far as major occupations were concerned, however he only saw two: inn owner, and model. Before he could see more Garcia had opened links to other pages, pulling up more pictures of the man, **nice** pictures, modeling pictures from some major labels actually. "American Eagle, Hollister! This is one good looking inn keeper my pretty!" Garcia beams. He was shirtless in most photos, modeling the pants and boots rather than shirts. He was cut, like, ripped in the not-too-beefy-attractive kind of way, having a chest and abs that complimented his face well. With an unintentional blush, Spencer found his eyes wandering over that chiseled body, stopping at the 'V' that adorned his lower abdomen and marked the trail to lower extremities...One might think upon first glance that he was a barbarian, but he also took photos with a shirt on, dress shirts, partially unbuttoned of course to have that advertising allure. "Reid?" He'd gone scary silent so Garcia spared him a glance, to see him completely flustered. "Reid are you...?" She stopped upon noticing that his pants had become just a bit tighter on him... "Oh my..." she gave him a shocked and pitying gaze as he noticed his fault and tried to shield himself across the room. He'd slipped up...she knew...

"Does anyone else-"

"No."

"How long-"

"Just after high school...so about 14..."

Silence befell them as they packed up and joined the others on the jet. "I won't tell anyone, pinky promise."

"...Thank you..."

And that was the moment when Penelope Garcia became Spencer Reid's closest friend, the first to find out his long kept secret, and the one who would be his ally in the months to come...

* * *

><p><em>So many dots, GAH! But then it makes for great pauses in thought doesn't it? Makes you think, visualize. Anywho, I sincerely hope you enjoyed, for my next chapter will contain a hint of true crime and a hopeless adoration...hopefully... Please review, all questions shall be answered to the best of my ability and all comments replied to. :)<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello again! So glad to be back, it's been a long week of finals but it's over and Christmas is nearly here...WOOT WOOT! Cookies bitches! Anywho, just finished reading an Avengers fanfic in progress and I'm hooked! I love Bruce Banner and definitely Mark Ruffalo! So hawt! Just like Tom Hiddleston! Anyway I definitely recommend starseer7296 's fic 'Beauty is a Beast' for any Hulk fan._

_TazzieLuv13: I thank you for your continued support. :)_

_Kei-Kat: Thank you! I'm glad you like it :) _

_Here's chapter three guys!_

* * *

><p><strong><span>When In Rome<span>**

The flight to New York was dreadfully long and quiet, Reid felt it had something to do with the fact that Penelope was in on his secret now, the one he'd hoped he'd never have to reveal. All of that, over some attractive man he saw online!

...

He never thought he'd scold himself for having such a teen-ish problem, you know, admiring someone from the internet... But then it would be hard not to, he was a male model after all, it was kind of natural that he'd be attractive. He was so ashamed at the fact that he was even still thinking on the subject! He was so distracted these days, there was no way he was solving this on his own. This would be hell, his own personal hell...

"Reid, we're here." He looked up upon hearing Morgan speak, his dark brown eyes heavy with exhaustion. Come to think of it, none of them had gotten much sleep since they had gotten back to Quantico so late last night, added to the fact that they were called in early for all of this... Luckily Garcia had found a hotel to her satisfaction and they could go there as soon as their meeting with NYPD was over. He definitely needed coffee until then though, what he wouldn't do for a double espresso...

The others hadn't brought much but Reid had made it a point to bring as much of his things as possible, the travel sized valuables of course. He ended up with three suitcases in the end though and thankfully Derek was more than willing to help carry them. JJ called a cab and put their stuff in the trunk, since she was only a liaison she was heading straight to the hotel to put things away, mostly for the benefit of Spencer. "See you guys later."

"Why don't you be looking for a nice pace to get drinks, I sure as hell could use one," Rossi says with a grin.

"Heh, I'll do that. You just do your jobs alright?" The blonde left them then, the rest of them getting rides with the policemen that had come to meet them at the airport. Spencer took the opportunity to take a nap on the drive there, traffic was ridiculous! It must have taken them forty-five minutes to get to the station. The officer that drove him and Prentiss had introduced himself as Deputy Colson, but to call him James for the duration of their stay.

"I'm not big on titles until it comes to addressing my superiors," he'd said. _'The accent will take getting used to, considering everyone here will have one to some extent...' _Spencer could appreciate that, all in all, the brunette was a good man. He seemed kind and relaxed, but even he showed stress over the case the FBI had been brought in for. "Do you guys think you can really bring this freak in?"

"If anyone is perfect for the job then Doctor Reid is it," Emily assured.

"Doctor? I thought you were FBI."

"I am." There it is... "I simply have Ph.D's in addition." Everyone always asked the same questions, he was waiting for the moment when he slipped up and the next one came.

"So Doctor Reid, you been up here in New York before?"

"Just, call me Spencer. Titles and all." His attempt at a joke had gotten a smile from the man, that was a step forward. "And I have, on other cases. I can't say I've been to Brooklyn particularly though."

"Well, let me be the first to say that you're gonna like it here once you get used to it." Emily gave him a reassuring nod as they entered the station, patting him on the back as they all met with the police chief. The man was older, perhaps Rossi's age, balding and clad in many worry lines. Obviously the stress the man went through was aging him more than it should. The previous night's broadcast probably didn't help either.

"Chief Warren, I'm in charge of this boot camp. I see you've met Deputy Colsen and officers Kingsley and O'Brian." He gestured at Colsen and the two other officers who Reid was shown respectively by name. Kingsley being a sandy haired brute and O'Brian having more of a traditional Irish air to him what with the orange-ish curling locks, beard, and pale complexion. From there Hotch introduced them one by one, pointing to them respectively as he did so.

"I'm Special Agent Hotchner. These are agents, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and Penelope Garcia. Agent Jareau is setting us up at the hotel for now." Of course he'd been left for last... "And as requested this is Doctor Spencer Reid." The chief took his time analyzing Spencer while extending a hand in greeting.

"It's nice to finally meet you Doctor Reid, we've heard a lot about you since last night." Spencer was hesitant to return the gesture of welcome, as always he scorned himself for being so reclusive, even with a simple handshake with someone new. He pushed himself as always though, humoring everyone yet again by ignoring his tics.

"Not too much I hope," he tried in dry humor.

"Hey, so are ya really a super mega genius like they say? I.Q. of like, two hundred or somethin'?"

O'Brian's question was what he had been fearing but had no control to stop.

"Uh super mega, no. I can however read 20,000 words per minute, I have a Bachelors in Sociology and Psychology, Ph.D's in Chemistry, Mathematics, and Engineering. I have an eidetic memory and my I.Q. is actually one hundred and eighty-seven, not two hundred." The four men were giving him a very familiar stare he had learned to recognize over the years. "I also graduated high school at twelve years old." Still nothing. "Yes I'm a genius." At that they seemed to finally get it and gave nods of realization. Same old same old of course, too smart for everyone around, too dumb to know when to stop...He could just see Deputy Colsen's opinion of him lowering by the second. It would be a long...however many months he'd be there...

"Hey, didn't that guy from the bar have some kind of special memory? Not photographic..."

"It wa'n't that ei- whatever, was it?"

"Nah it was something with a D... Decorative... Directorive...?" The two officers were obviously trying hard to remember the condition, perhaps attempting to make him feel less out of place.

"Declarative?" he offers.

"That's it!" Kingsley says with a hit to his palm.

"Declarative memory?" Morgan inquires. Shit.

"Declarative memory refers to memories that can be consciously recalled at any given time. While declarative memory is similar to explicit memory, declarative memory can be stated in words, while explicit memory is the deliberate recall of information that can be recognized as a memory. It can be divided into two categories: episodic memory, which stores specific personal experiences, and semantic memory, which stores factual information. Episodic memory is where it also begins to differ from eidetic memory." Yep, definitely shit.

His team seemed to be enlightened, then again they dealt with him for years. The NYPD however once again looked lost and confused. "He always like this?" Warren asks Hotch.

"You get used to it. Think of it as having a walking encyclopedia." Why did that not settle him? It made him sound like such a freak.

"Sir!" Another officer came rushing up to the group, obviously flustered. "Sir, Detective Blakely has just been reported missing."

"What?! Explain yourself!" The BAU agents all shared identical glances.

"Who's Detective Blakely?" Rossi asks.

With a glance the new officer held out a file for the man to read. "Detective Blakely was our previous hope at catching the Ripper, Agent. He transfered here on a work visa from the UK. He'd been in Scotland yard until recent years but he was eager to help with the case when we asked for help."

"Can I see that Rossi?" Reid asks. He gave a nod, handing it over while secretly being grateful that Spencer was getting into the investigation.

The male was attractive with fiery red hair and a soft complexion with murky algae eyes. He looked to be in his mid thirties. "Raphael Blakely..." He had a history of alcohol problems, a lover of brandy apparently. "And he was reported missing this morning?"

"Yes, I just got the fax a few minutes ago."

"And what tipped you off that he was missing?"

"Well he called in with a report last Tuesday but he didn't check in over the weekend like he was supposed to. Plus I even called his landlady to ask where he was but she said he hadn't been home in a few days. She figured he'd just gotten drunk and was crashing somewhere else until he was ready to go home." Silence. Reid had a theory, but it couldn't be proven.

"Whatcha thinking Pretty Boy?"

"The Ripper challenged law enforcement in his message last night, on the off chance he ran into Blakely after he ran off, he could've seen him as too close in the investigation and decided to get rid of one while he had the chance."

"No way, Raphael hadn't found piss in the past few months, always whining about it too, saying the damn Ripper got more ass than he did his entire life." _'He would actually joke about something like that?' _That sounded awful in Spencer's eyes. It did make more sense though.

"That could've been the problem, he had information he didn't know was valuable. The Ripper wants to be caught but by someone who's his equal in intellect, he wouldn't want his agenda ruined by someone who would just stumble upon him. That, or it was someone else."

"The Ripper Replicator?" Prentiss asks.

"Exactly, a lackey just watching out for his idol's safety." Unfortunately he wouldn't know which until a body turned up... That was the part of the job that would never get any easier, needing another victim to catch who they were after.

God did he need caffeine...

"Alright," Warren starts, "Kingsley, you go out with Colson and check on all of Blakely's usual checkpoints and talk with his neighbors. I want at least a clue that he's just being a stubborn ass and ran off with some drunken prostitute. At this point I'd prefer it to the alternative."

"Yes sir." With that the two headed out. Hotch took the chance to get deeper in this.

"Did Detective Blakely have a habit of wondering off with strange women?"

"Pfft!" He responded with a disgust that had Spencer shuddering. "Women, men, anything with a pulse he'd run after. 'Specially if it was as horny as him."

Reid understood the disgust then. Raphael had been bisexual and apparently quite the player with both genders in his spare time. His interest in men and women seemed to make things rifty between he and the chief, since the older man obviously didn't approve of the idea. He had to say that despite his previous thoughts about the missing man, Spencer found a bit of respect for the man who openly said who he liked without fear of repercussions and his seemingly care-free attitude. These were things he could never be. Even as he pondered this, Penelope gave him a sympathetic gaze from the other side of Morgan. He had to keep his head straight though.

"It's possible that if the unsub is considered overly attractive he lured Blakely into a sense of intimacy..."

"Or offered it," Prentiss added.

"So you're saying this guy just straight up seduced Raf into following him to his death?" O'Brian acted as if it was far fetched.

"It would explain how he gets victims so easily." Hotch confirms. "Good looks added to simple charm would definitely reel in victims. It may not even be the looks, he could just be very charismatic and charming. That would make up for his victims that were straight or lesbian."

"I thought he raped **all **his victims? Why go after straight men or lesbians if you have your pick of the thousands who are straight women, gay men, or just straight up bisexual?"

"He craves dominance. It's not about the sex itself, it's boosting his ego, getting off on the power. He's a control freak, he proved that last night." Rossi spouted the usual verdict of sexual sadists.

Warren gave a sigh and ran a hand over his face, frustration rolling off of him like smoke. _'That'll be me in a few weeks..'_

"You guys had a long flight, why don't ya go and get yourselves a drink? We'll pass on what we know to the rest of the squad and start rounding up the crime scene photos from the newstation to hand to ya in the morning."

"You don't need us for anything else?"

"Not now, I want confirmation that we've lost Blakely before anything else." With a nod to Garcia Hotch agreed.

"Give them the computer for direct calls to your office at the BAU and meet us outside."

* * *

><p>"Um, JJ, this is the place you found for drinks?" Morgan and Prentiss were sharing similar looks of disbelief as they gazed up at the building. It was two stories, but the top floor held no signs of life, then again the windows were covered with black paper. It wasn't ugly per se, it was solid and looked well kept from the outside, but the sign that adorned the top of the doorway left them a bit weary. It was red neon, blocked all capital letters. Together read, they said 'Deadman Wonderland'. Now Spencer knew not to judge a book by it's cover, and he'd been to some places that looked worse in his field and this one seemed fairly safe. He could hear the music from outside but it sounded like regular club music to him, there was a single bouncer but he didn't seem to be there to keep people out, more like to greet them with a smile from what he could see of the grinning man. Security that seemed decent at least.<p>

"The guy at the hotel said it was the go-to place for all tourists if they could visit one spot while in Brooklyn. I asked if it was at all shady because we were all law enforcement and he said it had the cleanest record he knew of for a club."

"We're proud of it too!" The bouncer had finally decided to speak up and try to comfort them inside. "Safest, most fun, and the best entertainment." As he said this he gestured to a poster behind him , taped to the door. On it was a reddend sky background, an emerald eyed raven of some sort raising it's talons to the onlookers, poised as if capturing prey. Below it read 'Best music in New York, courtesy of the caw of The Crow'.

"What's the Crow?" Rossi asks. At this the bouncer chuckles, ushering them forward as if telling them a classified secret.

"The Crow is a he. See here at Deadman Wonderland we don't use our names during business hours, we're required to go my our cage names."

"Cage names?"

"Precisely Blondie. This place is themed from a show that is centered around naming it's characters after birds. All the employees personify a certain bird, including myself. Name's Woodpecker. Ironic I know." Yeah, considering he looked like he bench pressed cows in his spare time...

"So this Crow, he's the musician here?" Morgan asks.

"Well he goes by Crow on his good days, sometimes we call him Mockingbird. And he's not just the musician, he plays guitar, piano, DJ's, and above all he has the voice of an angel. Draws people in like a true siren. Actually he was on a vacation for a while and came back a couple nights ago. He does private performances upstairs on occassion." They gave him a look, to which he laughed again. "Everything here is legal, Scout's Honor!" He seemed shipper enough and they were actually intrigued enough to go in now, they needed a little bit of a push though.

"This sounds absolutely fantabulous. We. Have. To. Go. In!" Garcia persisted. Derek had a look on his face, a hopeless one, which made Spencer inquire as to what was wrong.

"She's not gonna let us skip out on this one Kid, we don't have a choice but to humor her." This made his laugh like he hadn't in a while. Leave it to Morgan and Garcia to collaborate and make his day all better despite all the gloom it contained.

"Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon PLEASE!"

"Whoa, calm down Garcia. We'll try it out alright?" Prentiss promises. Not that anyone was going to disagree on that decision. Spencer caught a slight smirk on the face of Woodpecker which he assumed was from the fact that by convincing Garcia to go in he had just gotten a whole new group of customers. He stepped aside and gave them a hardy grin.

"Have fun!" Reid could tell Hotch and Rossi were a bit hesitant and Morgan looked like he could just smack himself for not arguing, but they went in anyway.

Spencer had to say, it was bigger on the inside than he'd thought, the building extended farther back than you could see from just the street. It was open in space for the most part, a bar on the far wall that was being run by a woman and a man, some tables scattered throughout the area on the far right in front of a stage, an open dance floor in the center of the room, and some booths on the far left. The tables were few in number but there was one open that would seat them all that they found. As they sat down he gave everything a closer inspection. The stage was large and had a sofa sat on it, black leather. Surrounding it were speakers that looked like they cost more than his apartment and behind it was a DJ station, only a microphone at it's front. Music was playing but it was coming from the soundstation where a young brunette male was adjusting things on the board. The lights were a bit harsh but bearable, multicolred around the bar but flashing white around the stage. The booths were filled with young couples since they were excellent privacy despite the crowd of people. It was as if on instinct people just gave that area and the people in it some quiet time. They looked so happy... This place obviously had a way of charming people. Letting his eyes wander he noticed that the stairs by the stage that led to the second floor were completely empty. The floor however was riddled with people, he could tell this because it was just a platform that circled the walls and was framed with rails, up against the wall were two doors in all, which he assumed were the private concert rooms Woodpecker mentioned. The place was filled but not booming thankfully, it was mid-day after all.

"Not bad, I could hang out here," Prentiss says with a nod of approval.

"Not my style but it looks like everyone here enjoys it," Rossi adds. A girl of about 21 with curly brown pigtails approached their table with a shy smile, notepad in hand.

"My name's Robin, is there anything I can get you folks today?" Her accent wasn't very strong but her voice was also very soft an airy.

"Scotch please," Rossi says. Prentiss, Hotch, JJ, Garcia and Morgan follow.

"Bloody Mary."

"Cape Cod?"

"Pina Colada."

"White wine please."

"Shot of whiskey."

The girl looked to Reid, a light flush on her cheeks. She tried to look him in the eye but couldn't seem to, making him wonder if there was something off about him. "And you? What can I get you?" Damn, he still wanted that coffee...

"Just water please." She nodded, assuring them that she'd be quick before scurrying back to the bar. Without realizing it Morgan had let a laugh slip. "What's so funny?"

"She's totally a fan of pretty boys." Great, more of this. He really didn't want to talk about a strange girl liking him when she was probably just more shy of him because she'd had to ask for his order directly.

"I have to go to the restroom. Tell her I said thank you when she comes by." With that he stood bypassing the dancing crowd and disappearing into the men's room.

"Nice going Morgan," JJ scolds.

"Seriously." Prentiss and JJ had ganged up on the male and left Garcia to wonder what had made the genius so uncomfortable. Hotch was going to say something when suddenly the dancing stopped and the music cut off, the crowd erupting into applause and screams and whistles. The stage was dark, leaving the flashing lights to hint at a figure that now stood in front of the microphone. It was about this time that Robin returned with their drinks and backed off, her eyes glued to the person that had everyone so excited.

There was a rugged chuckle from the person, male, before he addressed everyone. "Yeesh, and here I thought you guys were happy to be rid of me for two weeks. I should've known that you would miss the Crow though." The screams got louder, the crowd absolutely jazzed for the main attraction.

"That's Crow?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know about how he looks but I'm definitely digging that voice. Nice and raspy with a boyish undertone," Prentiss coos. She didn't even mention that it was completely void of any accent whatsoever.

"Here we go..." Hotch takes a drink of his Cape Cod, thankful for a fruity addition to some much needed alcohol. Rossi was laughing softly at him from the side.

The spotlight switched on, zeroing in on the musician who had the place in an uproar. Penelope, JJ, and Emily let their eyes glue to the male, jaws gaping at the handsome man they were gazing upon. He was wearing heavy steel-toe boots, dark jeans with holes in the knees that clung to his narrow hips, and a leather black sleeve-less vest that had two buckles holding it together at the waist, leaving his chisled abs, broad, bronzed chest and shoulders, biceps exposed to every eager pair of eyes watching. His soft yet strong featured face was partially shielded by golden blonde hair that was styled so that it side swept his face, framing it on the other side perfectly. His eyes practically pierced through the air with their sharp emerald color that seemed to defy reality. His thin lips were pulled into a crooked grin that showed his perfect pearlescent teeth. It was all the three FBI women could do to keep from swooning.

"I approve."

"I approve!"

"I definitely approve!" Derek shook his head in disbelief, these were the women that were entrusted to catch bad guys, god forbid one of them ever be as good looking as blondie up there...

"Alright alright! I get it! You guys came for the music, I get it! I'll not deprive you of your entertainment!" He turned, nodding back to the DJ to play his track before retrieving a blackened guitar from the sofa behind him. He gave it a test strum and awaited the music to begin, eyes closed as if he were awaiting orders from god himself, the song his ultimate mission in life. Even Hotch had a tough time looking away.

His expertise on the guitar was something to applaude, and his soft voice commanded everyone before it became stronger and rang through the club.

_"I'm tired of being what you want me to be,_

_Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface._

_Don't know what you're expecting of me,_

_Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes._

_(I'm caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow.)_

_Every step that I take is another mistake to you._

_(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow.)_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,_

_Become so tired, so much more aware._

_I'm becoming this, all I want to do,_

_Is be more like me and be less like you!_

_Can't you see that you're smothering me?_

_Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control._

_Cause everything that you thought I would be,_

_Has fallen apart right in front of you._

_(I'm caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow.)_

_Every step that I take is another mistake to you._

_(Caught in the undertow, just caught inthe undertow.)_

_And every second I waste is more than I can take!_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,_

_Become so tired, so much more aware._

_I'm becoming this, all I want to do,_

_Is be more like me and be less like you!_

_And I know, I may end up failing too._

_But I know, you were just like me with someone disappointed in you!_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,_

_Become so tired, so much more aware._

_I'm becoming this, all I want to do,_

_Is be more like me and be less like you!_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there._

_(Tired of being what you want me to be...)_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there._

_(Tired of being what you want me to be...)_

The crowd went crazy, praising Crow on his performance and throwing flowers and other objects at him in idolization. The BAU bunch didn't go unimpressed either as he gave them his sincerest affections for their love of his music. He laid down his guitar once more. He gathered what flowers he could carry and gave a curt bow to his fans, stopping only to pull out a small pink object from his pocket and toss it to a random male in the crowd.

"Was that a pocket knife?" Rossi asked out loud.

"Real manly knife," Morgan says, downing his shot. "Not to mention a weird handout."

"It's probably significant to him and they know that, that's why it's such a big deal." They nodded at JJ's theory. He left the stage and the lights dimmed once more, the other assortments of music playing once again as he disappeared to the back hall, probably to the employee quarters they guessed.

Prentiss immediately made her thoughts known. "I definitely want one."

"I second that!" Garcia added. Something did seem familar about the man she admitted, but she couldn't recall from where she had seen him.

"You really find that punk attractive Baby Girl? He can't be over 21."

"Maybe I like younger guys," she says with a smile that screams 'Ha you're jealous!'

"Definitely attractive Morgan."

"Better watch out JJ, you and I are the only ones married here." Leave it to Hotch to ruin her fun.

"I still say he's bad news."

"Who's bad news hot stuff?" Morgan immediately straightened to look behind him for the cool voice that had called him on his comment. To his shock standing behind him with a Colgate smile and a teasing expression was none other than Crow...

"Hot stuff?" he questions with discomfort.

The blonde gives a chuckle at his question, rubbing his neck nervously. "Sorry about that, force of habit."

Garcia gave an inaudible gasp upon seeing the singer up close. She remembered now where she had seen that hair and those eyes before. He was that inn keeper that she and Reid had been looking out when he'd accidently...you know. She was secretly giddy with excitement. It was hard to believe that the hunk she had seen Spencer get worked up over worked in the place they had picked to have drinks. She had no idea he would end up being the infamous Crow.

"I didn't mean to intrude, it's just that I noticed you from up on stage and I've never seen you guys around before. I've been working here for years so I knew immediately that you were knew to town."

"That we are," Rossi offered.

He gave them a thousand watt smile, lifting a glass of red wine they hadn't even noticed he'd had to his lips. "So what's the occassion? You on some kind of business trip together? You don't look related. Wait, let me guess. You're dressed formally for the most part," aside from Garcia, "You didn't go crazy with your orders and one of you even got water. From the fact that you have your brawn on this side of the table," he gestured to Derek, "Your leadership here," he gestured to Hotch, "Your experience," Rossi, "Your brains," Garcia and Prentiss, "And someone with a nice smile and probably excellent social skills," JJ, "I'm guessing a law enforcement team. Not local so normal police forces are out. Probably government, dealing with crime behind the scenes. FBI?"

They were genuinely impressed at his deduction. "You haven't been stalking us have you?" JJ asked with a smile of surprise.

He waved them off, a light blush covering his cheeks at the inquiry. "I swear, I just love a good puzzle when I see one, that's all." Garcia found him absolutely adorable. He was smart, charming, good looking, talented, surely she wouldn't be a bad person if she set Reid up with him! If only he was into guys!

"You have quite the talent, how long have you been singing?" Hotch asks.

"Well pretty much my whole life really. I've always felt that music is the language of the soul, without it any other expression pales in comparison. It's the only time when we see people for their true selves, when people can connect on another level despite differences and petty issues."

"A noble thought, did that song mean anything to you?" He frowned slightly as if he remembered something unpleasant but immediately replaced it with a solemn smile, showing them just how positive he really was.

"I wasn't exactly the most liked as a kid, my caretakers at the orphanage had high expectations for me though...I didn't really live up to them." Garcia's heart panged and even Morgan felt guilty. "Sometimes it's nice to reflect on how I felt at the time even if I know better now." They nodded in understanding, not pressing the issue. "I'm sorry, I haven't properly introduced myself."

"It's fine, we know employees aren't allowed to give their real names," JJ assures. He shrugs.

"Not when we're working, but I've been doing songs on and off all day and technically I'm off shift." His mischevious smirk that blossomed had all of them instantly warm once again, his happiness contagious. He offers a hand to each of them individually, starting with Morgan being nearest him. "Name's Edward." Derek gave him a firm handshake to which he tightened his grip also. "Nice grip there, you bench?"

"On occasion, you?"

"I make it a habit." Morgan chuckled when he flexed his pecs in response, making them look like they jumped. He too returned the laugh.

"Name's Derek."

"I'm Aaron and this is David."

"I'm single- I mean Emily!" Prentiss immediately turned fifty shades of red when she realized her slip up, she couldn't help it though, she didn't think anyone normal person could flex their muscles like that. To her relief Edward gave her a reassuring smile and a wink.

"Nice to meet you **Emily**."

"I'm Jennifer."

"And I am Penelope." He gave a bright grin at Penelope, finding her overall aura refreshing and her attitude and apparel kind of cute. He gave her a small peck on the hand when he took hers.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Making friends as usual Eddy?" They all looked to the fiery redhead that was strutting up to the table, an impish expression on her face as she eyed Edward.

"You know me, you off shift now too?"

"Hummingbird has to rest too you know. So has he tried flirting with you yet beautiful?" she asks Prentiss, a glint in her blue eyes. This made Emily shift, not sure how to take her comment.

"Nicky you're making her uncomfortable."

"And you don't think I caught the whole 'hot stuff' comment earlier?" He flushed immediately, looking away with a defiant gaze. This made Derek uneasy too.

"I'm sorry if I seem out of line, but are you...?" Rossi wasn't sure he should finish if he could offend Nicky.

"Name's Annika," her accent was strong. She didn't seem upset though, amused seemed more like it and she seemed pretty nice now that she had inserted herself into the conversation. "And it's fine, most people can't guess my sexual orientation right off the bat. Or his for that matter," she says, jerking a thumb in Edward's direction. "I mean I don't really seem like your typical dyke and he's not much of a pansy but yeah, I'm lesbian. He's a big hunk of bisexual."

"Thanks for the update Nicks, I can always count on you to make everyone in the room uneasy." He had followed Emily's example and had turned red, thickly muscled arms now crossed. "Sorry about her, she's fairly blunt about everything."

Inside Garcia was squealing. _'He's bi like Reid!'_

"Hey, I couldn't help but notice but you have an empty chair there." Edward had noticed too but didn't say anything immediately.

"Sorry but I noticed too, I just didn't want to be rude. You missing someone?"

"One of our team members went to the restroom," JJ answers.

"Hey, there's Pretty Boy." They looked towards the men's room, sure enough Spencer had stopped at to admire some plants by the bar, adjusting his tie and straightening his vest.

"Cute," Nicky said. Edward had fallen silent, she noticed though. His eyes were locked on the man in purple, his lips parted and a sort of longing and admiring gaze flooding his features.

He took in the tall frame of the slim man, he was six foot six, so he could guestimate this man at about six-one. His features were sharp but also soft, feminine for a man, and he had gentle waving brunette hair that complimented his brown eyes perfectly. He was pale and his skin was void of any discrepencies. He was at a loss for words.

"Oh man, you got the hots for Plum Boy over there!" Nicky taunts with a smirk. He swallowed suddenly, finding himself biting his lip nervously in the process of pulling his gaze away.

"Shut up," he snapped. His gaze found Penelope for some reason. "He, uh, like coffee?" he tries in a softer tone, barely loud enough to hear.

Derek was the one to answer. "Look, he's not-"

"Yes! He does!" Morgan shot her a glare as if to say, 'What the hell are you doing Garcia?'

At this Edward apologized and dragged Nicky off with him, dodging the crowd and coming up the opposite end of the bar as Reid headed back, missing his gaze. He sat down once more, taking a sip of his water that had warmed in his absence. Upon looking at his friends he noticed that they shared similar looks of disbelief and confusion, which made him so in return.

"You guys okay?" he tries. Morgan was going to explain when Robin and the other bartender approached their table with a mug in hand.

"Here you are sir," the man says, setting it before Reid.

"Um, sorry, I just ordered the water." Robin shakes her head.

"A gift from an anonymous member," she says softly. "Enjoy please."

With that they head back to their posts, silencing Morgan for reasons he couldn't fathom himself.

"Who would buy me a drink?" Spencer wonders aloud. He smells it first, determining that it was coffee surprisingly. He gave it a small sip, then another, longer drink. He had to blink back his surprise though as he swallowed that first heavenly drink.

_Double espresso..._

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was a lot of fun to write and I can't wait to get started on the next one! Speaking of drinks though I'm off to fuel my Mountain Dew addiction and collapse of caffeine overload. Questions andor comments are welcomed and encouraged! Plus brownie points to anyone who has actually watched Deadman Wonderland, you're awesome! Until next time guys!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey again! Glad to get another chapter in here, sorry if it's a little rusty._

_TazzieLuv13: Once again your praise is appreciated, and oh so clever are you. :)_

_Malou1: Glad to supply you with yet another chapter._

_Ttalgi: I promise to update as often as possible. I swear!_

_All things aside now, I give you chapter four of Wine, Roses, and Psychosis. I disclaim any real life bands, people, or shows. I won only the OC's._

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><p><strong><span>Account of an Angel?<span>**

Reid had counted seven discrepancies among his hotel room, or really, what was his hotel room the previous night. The night had been long and restless, even with the supposed high end mattresses, he just couldn't find the motivation to find sleep. His team had said to him their goodbyes just hours before, and he had equal time to find another place to stay. Garcia had booked them as a group for one night on the agency's budget, but now he had to find something he could fund on his own for a while to come. What the hell he was going to do he had no idea.

A ring coming from his pocket roused him into sitting up once more. It had begun. "Doctor Reid."

_"Spencer we have the evidence from the scene Saturday night ready for you to look over at headquarters. The chief wanted you to come by and give your opinion."_ Deputy Colsen, obviously not forgetting their agreement to forget formalities around one another.

"Right, just tell him I'll be there as fast as I can."

_"Do you need me to pick you up? I'm just around the corner."_ One less taxi fee...

"That'd be great actually if it's no trouble James."

_"Not at all, be there in a few."_ Spencer hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket, running the other hand over his face. That coffee had really helped last night...

He had yet to find out who his secret buyer was, his team didn't give him anything concerning what had happened while he was in the restroom other than that he'd missed an incredible performance by the Crow. He actually did pick up some sound in there and even though the words were muffled he had to admit the voice was melodiously pleasing. Who would've ordered him the drink he had been craving all day though, when he hadn't mentioned it? He was probably just overthinking it. It might have been that waitress Derek mentioned, or maybe it just happened to be someone with similar tastes. Hell, it was probably one of his team members and they just didn't admit to it.

He met James downstairs and they rode to the station in overall silence, meeting Warren in his office. The photos of the lobby were rather disturbing. Bodies lay mangled around every corner, sliced open and ranging in severity. Others had been shot, from the guns of the fallen from what ballistics determined. It had been a massacre. Yet there was Alice Kiersten, perfectly preserved and taken care of.

"Anything else you need to tell me?"

"We found that the card had been handwritten on, including the briar work on the edges." A nod. "The examiner wants to give you the details on the bodies. What's your verdict?"

"I want to hear what the examiner has to say before I go assuming things, if you don't mind at least."

"Of course. Colsen, walk him down."

"Yes sir." Reid followed James without a word, letting himself be led through the halls in silence. "You okay Spencer?"

"I'm fine, just, not sure where I'm going to stay. I can't really afford anything high class around here."

"The FBI doe'n't take care of that stuff?"

"Not when lone agents are sent on special request assignments." He nods in understanding.

"Well ya can always ask O'Brian or Kingsley, they hang out at that Deadman Wonderland enough they should know a good place."

"They go there?"

"Where do ya think that guy with the declarative memory came from?" _'That was a man from there?' _He would've liked to meet that person himself. Loss of opportunity...

"You Doctor Reid?" a woman asks. The medical examiner. They were in the morgue.

"I'm he."

"They told me you were coming. I figured you'd want to hear this." She uncovered some cadavers, corpses from the incident. Three officers that were on duty at the time. "Initially I thought that the attacks made with the knife were hostile and spur of the moment."

"They weren't?"

"Afraid not. They were killed differently, very much so." She gestured towards the three males one after the other. "I was able to deduce which of the lacerations was made first on each victim. This one suffered a straight stab to the heart, killing him instantly. This one had his throat slit over the jugular, he bled out in seconds. And this man received a sharp puncture to the brain stem, severing it and literally disabling the body from keeping itself alive. The blade, which I determined to be an everyday pocket knife, was expertly pushed through the base of the skull at an upward angle and centered up exactly with the stem. These are the cleanest kills I've ever seen in my life."

So what you're saying is that they were killed in a second and the rest of the damage was, just for the hell of it?" Colsen asks.

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Talk about a ninja assassin..." Reid was flabbergasted, at this new information, which was surprisingly was synonymous with James' comment. Extreme skill would be needed to pull off such flawless executions, and only someone with precision could severe a brain stem, hit a heart dead center, and slit the most vital artery in the body in just a few seconds time. His personal opinion just changed drastically, and not just because of his prowess.

"I have a general profile for chief Warren." He circled and started out, Colsen in tow.

"Wait, what? Already? How'd you do that so fast?"

"Super mega genius remember?"

Warren was making an official case file when Spencer and James returned, surprised at how quickly the two had returned. "Back so soon?"

"Get your squad together and meet me in the briefing room please."

"Whoa wait, you already have a profile ready?"

"A base at least."

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><p>"From what I've seen of the crime scene, past ones, and the broadcast Saturday night, I've determined that our unsub is a white male in his early to mid thirties." Spencer didn't waste formalities when the meeting was called.<p>

"How can you possibly know this?"

"First of all from the range of victims he's obviously young, strong, and capable, but of an age that gives him reasonable knowledge and experience. His speech from the broadcast hinted at the typical patterns for a college educated Caucasian male. He's physically fit and charismatic to the point of being able to lure in even the most suspecting of people, but also a social introvert. He's single and may have feelings for someone who doesn't return his love. He's intelligent and probably has a stable job as something highly prestigious, a doctor, a professor, maybe even a detective."

"If he's so successful and good looking then why is he spending his time locked up at home raping and killing people?"

"Well that's where the real questions are. Perhaps he just, feels that he's alone, but he finds temporary comfort in his union with his victims before death." So the obvious was out there, now was time for the unbelievable part. "I've also determined that he develops personal connections, however small, with all of his victims, planned or not. At the studio he slaughtered the employees with instant death inducing blows whether by gunshot or by blade, either way he killed them quickly and painlessly. The additional mutilation was added after these first attacks to throw off his prowess at killing while also making him out to be more aggressive than he really is. He's angry but he's too compassionate to actually mutilate someone like that while they're still alive, the thought of torturing someone sickens him, he just wants the death itself. That's all I have."

Even with so vague of information, the officers were stunned that he'd come up with even that much. They hadn't turned up anything with their investigations and Spencer had one upped them all in one day. Respect for him blossomed, and he released them from the meeting himself...

* * *

><p><em>"Omg I can't even believe you did that Reid, you are just growing up so fast!"<em> Garcia of course had called as soon as they landed in Quantico, eager to hear how things went on his first day. He'd told her to pass on his deductions to the team and his reasoning and to call if they had input. She too was proud of him, as was Colsen.

"He did great today, really stumped me."

_"So did you figure out your sleeping arrangements lovely duckling?"_

"Well-"

"I've got it covered."

**_"You do?" _**Spencer was just hearing of this let alone Garcia.

"Yeah, I talked to Kingsley and he said he knew the perfect hotel and rates were under fifty bucks a night."

_"Is it sanitary?!" _Reid could see where she was coming from, most decent hotels would never do rates below fifty dollars a night, especially in New York.

"I swear it's perfect! Scout's honor!"

"What's it at least called?"

"Holmes Inn."

_"Eeeep!" _At the squeal both men cowered away from the phone with hisses of pain.

"Damn it! Ya scream into people's ears often?!"

_"Sorry! It's nothing! Sorry!" _Was it just him or was Garcia getting stranger by the day? _"Anyway I have to go! Bye my darling!"_

"Well that was weird." He shrugged, supposing as far as normal people went.

"So. Do you have directions for that Inn?"

"Yeah, it's on the far end of town. Luckily though that's just a few minutes away by car. Neighborhood's quiet, it's nice. You'll be fine. Plus I'm told the place is empty besides the innkeeper most of the time." Sounded great, if it was true. "I'll drop you off on my way home."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"No problemo." Luckily they were both already at Colsen's car. "So uh, how long you been with the FBI?"

"Since I was 22, I immediately entered the BAU."

"Whoa, that young huh? How many years does that make now?"

"Eight." Colsen let out a long whistle.

"Damn." He wasn't kidding about the distance from the station. It took all of five minutes to reach the neighborhood he spoke of. Another two to find the inn. "Here we are, casa de Holmes. Your stop sir." He got out helping Reid empty his stuff on the front step, giving him a handshake as he started back. "Call me if you need a ride, I'm free."

"Thanks again." He was glad he at least had a pending friend in James if nothing else. He could use one. God did he need sleep, decent sleep. A good meal would be nice too. He was about to go in when he pulled on the handle. The door however wouldn't budge. "Huh?" There was a note on the door, the writing was rather beautiful print.

_'On the off chance somebody comes by, I regret to say that I must work until late evening. I promise to tend to anyone needing service upon my return. -E.H.'_

"Guess there was truth to the part about the innkeeper being the only one around." He could call Colsen, but he didn't want to intrude. He could stand to wait until the owner came back, it was already evening, surely he could go an hour or two since it was fairly warm out. "Wonder what E.H. stands for..."

* * *

><p>Crow was just finishing his last performance of the night, admirers from all over swarming him off stage. Women draped against him and men even ogled him from the sidelines. The lights were on him again it seemed, but of course he didn't care. He never really did, but then he had to smile for their sake. Their adoration was nothing to him if not simply a compliment to his talents. He had a routine it seemed for every night, or rather every day...<p>

He had dazzled in his jeans and boots yet again, this time sporting a navy blue tank and a black sleeveless jacket with a white fur collar and a silver chain necklace. His hair went unchanged but still held it's edgy look while still making him seem artistic. He politely shooed away his fans, wishing to just get home and work his plans. He needed a drink, now.

"Mr. Crow! Mr. Crow?!" More? A young blonde and brunette girl along with their male companion approached him anxiously. He put on his most charming smile.

"My apologies, I didn't see you there. Can I help you in any way?" he coos. They were immediately star struck by him.

"U-um, you were really, wow..." The fawning, the swooning...same old same old. "We were wondering um, if it's no trouble, if we could walk with you?" Of course. Why else would they have stopped him?

"I see absolutely no reason why not. I don't live far from here, you an escort me part of the way." He gave the blonde a classy wink, offering for her and her friends to walk ahead of him. The male took to him quickly, starting a hardy conversation right off the bat about his guitar skills.

"That was a wicked rift you did there on your last song. Did you write that yourself?"

"I did actually, a handful are actually my own compositions. Only on rare occasions do I do covers."

"That is so cool." The girls were giggling affectionately and ogling him as per usual. He did his usual, told them what a great place Brooklyn was, thanked them for their support of the club, wished them well while they continued their visit of New York...

"Won't you please sing for us?"

"Pretty please?" He held up his hands in surrender, laughing at the request before accepting.

"Anything for some new friends. Any requests?"

"One of your originals dude, I'd like to hear another one."

"Yeah!"

"Alright, alright." He clears his throat, thinking of one of his songs off the top of his head.

_"Before I could ever let you go,_

_Gonna beg until I drive you mad._

_And say something you could understand._

_I'm a statue baby, knock me out._

_Oh how these moments fade away,_

_You say you never loved me._

_We say things we didn't mean to say._

_I take it back, I take it all back now._

_I take it back, I take it all back._

_Paralyzed by the same old antics,_

_Back and forth like some walking spastic._

_How could a fistfight be romantic?_

_Thinking back now will you ever feel the same?_

_You mean more to me than you'll ever know._

_You're my girl and I think it's a shame,_

_That we get along this way._

_I'm just a statue, try to knock me out._

_I guess these moments fade away,_

_Saying you never loved me._

_We say things we didn't meant to say._

_I take it back, I take it all back now._

_I take it back, I take it all back._

_Paralyzed by the same old antics,_

_Back and forth like some walking spastic._

_How could a fistfight be romantic?_

_Thinking back now will you ever feel the same?_

_Paralyzed by the same old antics,_

_Back and forth like some walking spastic._

_How could a fistfight be romantic?_

_Thinking back now will you ever feel the same?_

_Yeah I know you feel the same,_

_You gotta let me know, I'm dying inside to know._

_Knock me out, I'm dying inside to know._

_Let me know, Knock me out._

_Paralyzed by the same old antics,_

_Back and forth like some walking spastic._

_How could a fistfight be romantic?_

_Thinking back now will you ever feel the same?_

_Paralyzed by the same old antics,_

_Back and forth like some walking spastic._

_How could a fistfight be romantic?_

_Thinking back now will you ever feel the same?_

_Paralyzed by the same old antics,_

_Back and forth like some walking spastic._

_How could a fistfight be romantic?_

_Thinking back now... can you feel the same?!_

_You gotta let me know, I'm dying inside to know._

_Knock me out._

_I'm dying inside to know._

_Gotta let me know, knock me out._

**( Song: 'Paralyzed' by The Used )**

"Wow, you're so good."

"Too good!"

"Yes well this is my stop guys so I'm afraid I have to depart." He was craving wine, red. And loin, rare...

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><p>It was dark and Spencer had been waiting for two hours. He was beginning to think that 'late evening' meant 'late night'. Of course the quiet time was nice for his ongoing migraine, and the air was crisp in this area of the city. He wondered if whoever owned this place had any aspirin...<p>

His thoughts were interrupted by a heavenly voice that carried from what sounded like just around the corner of the hedges that surrounded the hotel. The voice was male, soothing with a honey tune to it, a soft vibrato to compliment it. "Who's singing?" And why haven't they come by sooner? He caught a glimpse of a brunette male rounding the corner, along with two women, but none of them were the source of the voice. They spoke to someone else, who remained hidden by the bushes. They seemed to be saying goodbyes because they began rounding back, the soft voice growing nearer.

"Goodnight." Spencer found his heart stopping as the figure came into view before him. The man was taller than even he at six-foot one. He was brooding and definitely athletic since his thick arms practically screamed weight lifting. His steel toe boots clanked against the pavement with a thud following them, further proof of his built frame.

The man stopped some feet away from him, his eyes seeing him sitting upon the stoop for the first time. Spencer's brown eyes met emerald green, a familiar feeling rising inside him. The blonde was rather speechless to say the least, recognition spreading over his features at the sight of the male who had entranced him the previous evening. For a moment, both were completely void of words. After a few moments Crow spoke, offering a hand.

"I'm extremely sorry for my absence, I didn't realize I had company. I'm so used to living in solitude." His voice was perfect, completely void of the northern accent most Brooklyn's had. His kind smile enchanted the FBI agent, as did his soft gaze. He didn't realize that he was accepting his hand and being lifted to his feet. He had trouble finding his voice because he realized that he knew this man with gem-like eyes. _'The innkeeper with the model background...'_

"I-it's f-fine, I-I just...I waited..." The blonde gave him a crooked grin that turned his legs to jelly, as well as a light chuckle. To his surprise he brought the man's slender hand to his lips, pecking it softly and making him flush.

"My name's Edward Hopkins."

"Like the founding governor of-" Spencer had to clamp a hand over his mouth to shut himself up.

"The Connecticut colony. Yeah." To his surprise the blonde finished his statement with a blush, obviously sharing a similar embarrassment to his knowledge of pointless facts. They shared a look before Spencer averted his eyes once more.

"I'm uh, Doctor Spencer Reid. I-I'm with the FBI..." _Damn it Spencer! You have to be some kind of idiot for just blurting that out! _

A look spread over Edward's face, one of remembrance and disappointment as well as slight anger, but it was quickly altered to a convincing expression of surprise. "FBI huh? We'll Doctor Reid it's an honor to have you here. I expect you need a place to stay correct?" Spencer nodded, to which he smiled. "We'll then, it's cruel of me to keep you waiting any longer." He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door, stepping aside to usher in his guest.

Spencer stepped inside with a surprised expression. The interior was traditional style, he wouldn't be surprised if the building itself was a hundred years old. The foyer was open with a high ceiling and flying buttresses. Above was a crystal chandelier, and the wallpaper was country-style floral patterned. To his left was a hall that opened to a dining room slash kitchen that was quaint but cozy, and to his right was a hall that contained many rooms, which he assumed to be the quarters, with a mahogany staircase at it's end. The side tables that were covered in white silk cloths also held crystalline vases with bouquets of red roses at the peak of their bloom. Even petals decorated the tabletops. "It's not much, but it's home. I decorate myself, kinda shows my inner gay don't you think?" Spencer didn't want to be rude but he had to stifle a laugh at his wholehearted comment. "Luckily for you though you get first pick of any room you want."

"You have any suggestions?"

"Well since you asked...the room next to mine has a great view over this end of the city and you can see the Brooklyn bridge over the river. A rather beautiful sight at sunrise and sunset. I could help you set up in there if you'd like, and I'd only be a wall away." He actually wanted nothing more than to sleep near this man, a room next door sounded magnificent.

"Sounds great," he manages to mumble. Inside he had so many random facts he was dying to just spurt. Maybe if he said them more calmly... "You know roses used to represent the evil instead of today's stereotypical symbol of love and romance.."

"Yep, they were used in many new buildings. Architects would use them as sort of a lucky charm in hopes that the structure wouldn't be complicated in any way." Once again the geographical profiler was surprised by the blonde's knowledge. "There's a few odds and ends about this place actually, heh." He was rubbing his neck in a way that made Spencer think of a child speaking to it's mother on her birthday, with flushed cheeks and an innocent demeanor.

_'He's adorable...'_

"Some of them concern the building and others are just my typical discrepancies. My eyes tend to make people uncomfortable in some cases..."

"They're beautiful..." He was grateful that he had whispered it and Edward didn't seem to hear it, he would've died from embarrassment. "Well, it's just because they're so rare."

"Yeah, I guess. Only about less than half a percent of the entire human race has eyes like this so brownie points for individuality huh?" He beamed his thousand watt smile, shaking a strand of golden hair from his eyes. _'He knows the statistics...'_ "I'm sorry did you want some dinner? I haven't ate yet so I was going to whip something up anyway."

"I'm actually pretty hungry," he admitted.

"Alright then, you like fish? I'm a master in the art of tilapia," he teases, heading to the kitchen. Spencer follows after, nodding in confirmation. The table was glass top and the chairs were black metal that was intricately designed. The cushions were the softest he'd ever felt too. He was amazed to find that Edward was maneuvering the kitchen with speed and prowess, setting out ingredients he didn't expect while expertly defrosting the fish he presented. He watched in awe as he tossed the meat into a pan and set the oven on high while wrapping it in aluminum foil. After just minutes he removed it, lathering it in various spices. Lemon pepper, a dash of paprika, some oregano, and a squirt of lemon juice. An unusual combination he thought, but he'd try it. "Bon apatite. Drink of choice?"

"Um..." What did he want? "You wouldn't happen to have wine on hand?"

He laughed as if Spencer had just told him the funniest joke. "Sorry, I live on wine and milk even though I keep other things." He didn't mind sounding like a drunk, he wasn't one, he just preferred to space alcohol throughout the day. "Hope you like red." He poured him a glass from the cupboard, and set it before him along with his food. He noticed that he poured his wine from a different bottle, one with no label, but he didn't think much on it.

The fish smelled delicious, so he eagerly took his first bite, flavor exploding on his taste buds. It was still so juicy from where the moisture had been kept in and it feel apart on his tongue so wonderfully. "This is amazing. Delicious." Edward to his amusement had already wolfed most of his down, his eyes finding him at his compliment. He had to chuckle.

"Mwat?" His mouth was full and his cheeks puffed. His eyes were wide but clueless as to how funny he looked hunched against the counter like he was. He gulped down what was in his mouth and wiped away some wine from his chin, his gaze expectant.

"Nothing. Thank you." Was he really smiling genuinely? It had been a while since he'd done that. He finished in a snap and soon felt fatigue hitting him. This Edward noticed.

"You need help packing your stuff upstairs? I can take you to the room."

"I'd appreciate it." He was going to pick up his smallest one first but Edward had snatched it up, sliding it over his shoulder and gathering the biggest on his shoulder as if it were a sack of potatoes. The other two he grabbed by the handles and lifted to be level with his hips. With a smile he nodded up the stairs, leaving Spencer to follow. On the second floor he gestured to some double doors.

"Workout room, I spend most of my time there." Well Spencer wouldn't exactly make it his hangout...

There were only three floors, so when they got there, Edward nodded to the room first on their right. "This is my room, if you need anything just knock. You're here." The room next to that was nice in standards. A small twin bed with red covers, a television and DVD player, a nightstand with a crystal shade lamp, and a bathroom to the back. The window was what got his attention though. Edward was right, the view was to die for. The moonlight reflected off of the river beautifully this time of night with the lit bridge over it.

"It's gorgeous."

"Yeah...gorgeous." Edward wasn't looking where he was though. He set down Spencer's things with care and cleared his throat so that he faced him. "I'm gonna do a run through and crash. Like I said, anything you need I'll get. Just ask."

"Oh, what about your price?" the agents asks.

Edward facepalmed. "Right. It's thirty a night." Spencer gave him a shocked look along with a questioning glance. "I don't need a lot of money, hell, my last customer was a man that calls the alleys home. He stayed a month for free."

"That's extremely generous of you."

His cheeks ignited and he scratched the back of his head. "Hehe well, I try to help out when I can. I mean I grew up in an orphanage so growing up with nothing...I kind of get it ya know?" That panged Spencer's heart. "Well, goodnight Doctor Reid."

"Call me Spencer, please." He smiled.

"Alright. Goodnight Spencer."

"Goodnight Edward." Spencer was left then, the door closed, the lights off. Edward Hopkins...He could get used to that unique name.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you enjoyed! I much appreciate your dedication to reading. Questions, comments, concerns all welcome. Also, legit question for you readers: Would you guys be mad if I changed the story cover to a picture of what Edward's face should look like? Or do you prefer the current one? The one I have in mind is a portrait style pic as opposed to the on eI have. Let me know in reviews! Merry Christmas!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_So sorry for the delay everyone! I've been reduced to my phone and it's not easy at all to type these out on one. Plus I was finishing an update to one of my anime fics. Many apologies! I'm a bit rushed so I'm afraid I'll have to get to comment replies another time, but I would like to say that there were no responses to my question last chapter on changing the cover picture for the story. I went ahead and changed it so if there are any objections now feel free to bring them forth. I do not own Criminal Minds. Here's chapter five._

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><p><strong><span>Taste Is My Favorite Sense<span>**

Spencer had slept better than he had in ages in that feather stuffed heaven called a bed. He'd never had the privilege of ever sleeping in such luxury, not to mention the fact that he was paying thirty bucks for it. The silken sheets enveloped him in their smooth embrace, licking softly at his skin with every breath. He still wore flannel nightwear, but rolling up the sleeves and legs wasn't a bad idea after he hit the mattress. He was woken by the gentle stream of light that poured invitingly into the room and kissed everything in its wake. At first he had to admit a little disappointment because he had been hoping to awaken to the sunrise and witness the view over the river he had been told of, but he had to have missed it by a few hours. He slowly rose, running a hand over his face. Surprisingly he seemed fully rested, which was a rarity. A realization also sank in, now that he'd provided a generic profile he didn't need to report in to the police department. He would do his own investigation and bring forth information when he had it. So in a way he was free to do as he pleased as long as he remembered to look for clues as often as possible.

It was weird waking so late, not having to be somewhere to be at seven in the morning. Not waking up before the birds themselves. Nevertheless he slid out of the comfortable bed, making it as he went so that it looked as nice as it did upon his arrival. It was interesting though as he started to undress, there was a golden tube protruding from the wall with a small cap over the opening. This just further proved his theory of the buildig's age. Messenger tubes he knew were common in the 1800's but he never expected them to still be in a building like this. That was the wall that he shared with Edward wasn't it? His room, er, office, should be on the recording end of this... He wondered if maybe they still worked.

He tapped the metal softly, watching for any signs of damage. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lifted the cap on the end, pondering what would be something appropriate to say should it work. "Um, hello?"

...

Nothing. "Edward?"

...

Still nothing. "He's probably already up and around.." he mumbled. Then again the thing might not even work after all these years. He replaced the cap, gathering up his clothes for the day as well his usual shower supplies. The bathroom itself was beautiful, black marble countertops, sterling silver plumbing and such, and an opaque glass door sitting open on the shower. He wondered momentarily how the innkeeper could afford such luxuries, before his eidetic memory kicked in and he recalled that he was a well renowned ex model. That in itself should've set him up for a segment of his life. A blush crept up his cheeks at the thought of his temporary landlord being someone so kind and generous.

He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it from his slim shoulders, folding it and setting it aside to soon be joined by the pants he pulled off next. Once naked he ran some warm water, not lukewarm yet not hot, stepping in and letting his long hair be swept back by the stream. It was a nice feeling for first thing in the morning, he felt his body relaxing while he became more aware, his senses catching up with him. He lathered shampoo into his hair on instinct, thinking maybe he should call Garcia for an update, once he was done in there at least. Rinsing off took him little to no time and he stepped out feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

He slipped on dark gray slacks and some black socks, buttoned up a red dress shirt and combed through his drying hair. His normal routine for the most part. Once he cleaned up in there he called Garcia.

_"You have reached the great and powerful Penelope! How goes it boy genius?"_

"Garcia, I assume you squealed in mine and James' ears yesterday because you knew who ran Holmes Inn." It was an accusatory greeting but it had occurred to him that this was true.

_"How dare you blame me for my outbursts! You know very well that sometimes I just get excited!"_

"And your excitement had nothing to do with the fact that the innkeeper is a particular blonde model?" he presses. A moment of silence.

_"Okay so I knew! Sue me for liking hot blondes! He's a hunk of Adonis!" _ He wasn't denying that fact... He slaps himself on the wrist for letting that distract him though.

"You didn't think I'd like to know this little tidbit of information? Especially after what happened in the tech room?!" he scolds.

_"Well I figured it'd be good for you...I mean imagine how good you'll feel when all of this is over! Besides, you weren't going to find any other place for that low a price without being a contributing roommate!" _On that she did have a point. He couldn't complain about the living arrangements...Still.

He let out a sigh. "Is there any word from Hotch?"

_"Yeah actually, the team added to your profile. They've told the NYPD to keep an eye out for men fitting your profile who are being treated for STD's. You know, since he's slept with hundreds of people?" _She had trouble even grasping the extent of having so many bed partners.

Spencer was surprised he's missed that, then he hadn't dwelled on the rapes as much as the rest of his MO... His first mistake on the case. "So after adding that to the profile have you narrowed down a list of possible suspects?"

_"To one-hundred and fifty darling. New York is waaay too populated for my tastes."_

"Alright, well, I think I'm going to grab some breakfast."

_"Breakfast?!" _she squeals. _"Reid, it's 12:30!"_ Was it really? Had he slept that long?

"Oh...well thanks anyway Garcia. Call you tomorrow." He ended the call then. He had to admit that despite his slip-up the case was already progressing farther than he anticipated. They had narrowed down thousands of people to under 200. Maybe he'd get to return home quicker than he'd thought... Even though it was past lunch time, he was still craving a breakfast spread. Maybe Edward had some poptarts or something? He decided he'd check.

He closed his door softly behind him, heading downstairs with more energy than he'd had when he first woke up. He noticed that some doors were larger than others as he reached the second floor. He wondered what they could be, remembering only that Edward had pointed out a gym. He didn't want to be a snoop though so he ignored them. Abrupt grunts however got his attention. They were coming from the end of the hall and they sounded like they were strained gasps of pain. He scurried to the double doors that were slightly ajar, peaking through the crack to get a glimpse of who could be making the rough noises...

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><p>Edward had awoken around eight that morning, early for him, especially since he usually awoke around lunch time. He always had difficulties being a morning person, he was definitely a night owl if his part-time job didn't already hint at it. He hadn't bothered with a shower since as soon as he woke up he had energy to burn, also something not like him. He left bed in nothing but his jade boxers that clung to him like a second skin, heading downstairs for a pear and bottle of his unlabeled red wine, chugging it down like cheerry Coke. He knew he'd probably have liver problems at this rate but hey, a glass of wine a day is beneficial...er, some shit like that. He also lit the occassional cigarette every now and then, but not near often enough that he was worried about inevitable cancer. Like a pack every two months was his limit. He never understood the addictive part of it, he had no problem going long intervals without one. He didn't linger on it though, the old days of his life in the hospital made him immune to most anything...<p>

He'd immediately set up his weights, putting it at his ultimate limit of 350lbs. He didn't know why but he wanted to push himself today, even if the excercise would inevitably leave him sore as hell. That didn't bother him though, he'd been through much worse... He'd started at around 8:30, setting his ultimate goal at 500 reps.

...

Four long, grueling hours later, Edwards entire body was slick with perspiration, the sweat glistening off of him like oil. His normally golden locks were dripping wet and were literally plastered to his face and neck, out of which his veins and arteries were bulging from overexertion. His entire body was tensed, his skin red from the blood his heart was pumping through him at an alarming rate. His teeth were gritted much to his discomfort, his canines giving him more excruciating pain than the rest of him. No mistake though, his bulging muscles, his flexed pectorals, his stretched biceps, triceps, and deltoids, were twitching from use, as if his body itself was alive in his current position. All of these things accentuated by how his arms were extended full length above his head, the weight of 350lb practically glaring back at him. his breathing was rapid, but controlled into systematic bursts.

"Four-hundred...ninety-nine..." he hissed. He slowly lowered the metal down to his breast plate once more, grunting and groaning in pain as he did so. Pausing just long enough to compose himself for this last rep. "Five...hundred!" As he struggled to lift the damned thing up fully for the last time he let out a labored yell of relief, quickly dropping it back onto the rack once done. He practically collapsed then, his arms falling limp at his sides, dangling lifelessly off the bench as his eyes forced closed and he regained his composure, his breathing slowing finally so that he could draw in a huge gulp of oxygen he deperately needed. His entire body was twitching uncontrollably, his being trying its best to relax again, but it had been hours since it had done so. He could've passed out from exhaustian then and there, but he knew that was never wise after exerting the body as much as he had. He might not wake up...

He found himself opening his emerald eyes to the white ceiling, just looking up at it for no particular reason. That was when he got this sudden feeling, his head turning as much as it could so that he could look over at the barely ajar door. It was brief, but he caught a glimpse of soft, chocolate brown eyes. His pulse immediately skyrocketed again, the realization that his guest had been watching him for go knows how long.

He gave a long inhale and put on his softest smile. "Doctor Reid, I feel almost flustered. How long have you been admiring me?" he coos teasingly. A moment passed before the former poked his head into the room, his face only a few shades lighter than his shirt.

"S-sorry, I was going downstairs and it sounded like someone was hurt..." His expression softened at the brunette.

"Of course, I didn't mean to cause you any alarm. I simply pushed myself too far again...hearing can sometimes fool us." Spencer nodded in understanding, averting his gaze. Out of courtesy he did his best, forcing himself to raise and straighten no matter how much it hurt. Something registered in Spencer and he rushed to the blonde's aid, his slender hands steadying him by the shoulders. His cool touch was like sweet relief to the aching man. Spencer was even more shocked with himself.

He had always been a partial germophobe, he was reluctant to shake most people's hands, yet here he was, helping up a man who was practically dripping in his own sweat. "T-thank you, b-but really, I'd be no man if I couldn't stand up on my own.." Edward assures him, waving him off casually and standing the rest of the way on his own and masking his true distress.

Spencer found himself embarassed he'd made Edward feel less masculine by helping him. He should've known it'd hurt his pride. "S-sorry..." It was then that he got a better look at the male before him. He would've never noticed at a distance if at all under different circumstances, the small discrepancy, the first he'd noticed, on the male's flesh. His tanned skin that he'd previously believed to be perfect and uncalloused, was riddled with dozens of scars. They had faded to match the rest of his flesh but the raised skin was much more apparent up close. They were small, at least the majority of them, and were straight, as if he had attempted to make a chicken-scratch pattern on himself. Others however, were long and jagged edged, as if he'd been attacked with something sharp. Sympathy immediately panged at Spencer's heart, his mind running rampid with questions as to what had happened to him.

Edward noticed this change in him and gave a miniscule, knowing grin. "They're pretty ugly huh?" The FBI agent found himself not able to speak. The blonde merely sighed and retrieved his unfinished wine, guzzling it down as if he depended on it, having to wipe a stream of it from his chin afterwards. "I wasn't the most popular kid at the orphanage when I was younger," he explains. "The biggest of the other kids but also the most picked on. I didn't really assert dominance over them like everyone expected me to, I was more of a reader and a poet than anything else. That gets an adults attention when you're that young, especially in a Catholic orphanage. Other kids tend to get jealous when your showered with praise and attention like that. Of course I was too soft hearted to do anything back so it usually escalated pretty badly before it came to an end." He was elaborating unneededly, but he felt he could tell the story without much judgment from the smaller male. "My teen years I manned up and started building myself up, I got into fights a little more and it got to the point that intimidated people so much I rarely had to deal with it anymore. Then again, that's where these babies came from." He ran long finger over a particularly jagged and feral looking scar on his right pectoral, which was still shaking from strain. Spencer had a better time hiding his embarrassment this time though with Edward's scars to fixate on.

"They're not ugly.." he murmurs. Nostalgia had actually hit the FBI agent hard, memories of childhood torment rushing back at him. He remembered every time he was bullied for being smarter than everyone else, something that still haunted him emotionally even today. The difference between them was that Edward had faced his problem, Spencer had just accepted it as something he had to deal with.

"Hey." The blonde snapped him from his thoughts. "You alright? I didn't mean to depress you with my sob story.." he apologizes.

Spencer shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Just uh, a little nostalgic is all." The blonde gave him a thoughtful look. He had yet to see so much as a flaming mark on the pale man, still...

"Not the most loved guy on campus either huh?" He could tell by his face he too had been tortured.

"Graduating high school at twelve didn't help matters..." The peaked Edward's interest.

"Twelve huh? Funny..." Spencer quirked a brow, signaling that the blonde needed to elaborate. "I was schooled privately at the orphanage until I was eleven, then afterwards they recommended me to a university where I immediately began studies in the medical field. You can uh, imagine how that went over with the nuns when they found out. Studying evolution and such was part of the mandatory study, how we're all pretty much animals." This was news to Reid. Someone who graduated at an earlier age than he, and even went into a more complicated field...

"Wait, if you went into the medical field, why did you open a hotel?" That seemed to be a complicated question for the blonde. "Well, I graduated at seventeen, and at eighteen I was a full on surgeon. But...right before I turned twenty, I realized that even though I was being beneficial to people, I was making good money, and I was good at my job...I wasn't happy." He seemed to be lost in thought Spencer noticed, his brilliant orbs staring off into space, clouded with an emotion he couldn't quite place. "I quit. Made some money doing some modeling for a while, then I found my true passion singing at this club down the road. The stage was my entire world, my source of true happiness and contentment. Between that and selling some of my songs to major companies, I had enough to open this place as a hobby." Spencer found himself more intrigued by the male the more he learned, but his story made him think back to what he had seen on the screen in Garcia's office...Edward was only 25 years old. He also noticed something else, the intense stench of bodily odor. His nose scrunched if only slightly, just enough for the blonde to turn and give himself a sniff, making himself wince.

"Heh, guess I need a shower pretty bad huh?" His face, finally back to its normal color, had flushed once more in embarrassment.

"Probably." He didn't want to be rude, especially since he knew the reason for the man younger man's stench.

"Well, since my smell is so repulsive I think I'll go save you the agony to your nose." It was said in a teasing tone. He stood, running a towel over his face and down his neck and chest. It was then that Spencer noticed what he was wearing for the first time. His face flushed as he took in the jade boxers that hugged the fit man's lower half so snuggly, darkened from perspiration. He avoided looking at him then, his eyes betraying his body. "You slept pretty late, once I'm all washed up I'll make you a gourmet Holmes Inn breakfast. Sound good?" His eyes were soft and kind, something that had Spencer feeling warm...

"Yeah, sounds good." Edward faded from view, heading upstairs to his room and leaving Spencer to his thoughts...

...

The blonde tossed his underwear into his hamper, continuing to his shower in the nude. He had the water nearly scalding, the liquid pouring over him and washing away his perspiration and opening his pores. The intense heat hit his aching muscles hard, but soon soothed them enough for him to give a groan of relief. His nerves had betrayed him today, but then he had done it on purpose. As he lathered his mint shampoo into his greased hair he felt himself stir in his lower regions.

"Damn it.." He did his best to ignore the sensation, sticking his face head on into the stream of water. His extremeties throbbed however the longer he ignored it. He gave a grunt, reaching into his mouth and removing four white fake teeth, reaching out and placing them onto the counter. He couldn't handle it, if he had one weakness, it was his neverceasing libido. He held himself steady against wall with one hand, the spray meeting him head on as his other hand closed around his lower ten inches of masculinity. He began with a slow rhythm, moving his hand up and down as his teeth dug into his lip. He would see brown eyes looking up at him innocently through their lashes, persuading him to tend to himself in a rougher manner. He focused his attention at his base, adding extra pressure to it and lightly teasing the tip when he moved up. He was panting, his teeth breaking skin as heat pooled in his groin. "F-fuck..!" He felt his stomach tense and soon his hot excrement mixed with the water that was poundings at his body. Evidence of his labors were washed away, leaving him only with his throbbing lip and lower appendage.

He scrubbed himself down quickly with a bar of soap, mint green, making sure that every last inch of him was pleasant to his guest. To the eyes, in smell. He stepped out of the shower with an ominous expression without meaning to, running the towel over his body quickly. He felt a disturbance upon his lower lip, and spared himself a glance in the mirror. His eyes were obscured by his hair that in its heaviness, hung like a curtain over his face. Blood trickled from his lip, red from where it had been punctured. His mouth partially open now he had a view of his teeth. Once perfect, his four canines now stood apart from the others obviously. They were sharp, unnaturally so, having been filed to a point years prior. He licked his lip, the red metallic liquid leaving a pleasing taste on his tongue. He loved that bittersweet taste very much.

He pulled on a pair of black jeans, hanging so low on his hips he needed a belt with emerald and black spikes on its buckle. He tugged on a matching t-shirt, also black and made of silk so that the fabric hugged his chiseled form. He slicked back his hair, not bothering to dry it and making it seem as if he had gelled it. Even slicked back it fell against the bottom of his neck. He replaced the caps over his teeth, making him seem to have his perfect smile once again. With the finishing touch of throwing on his silver chain necklace he headed downstairs, cracking his neck as he came into the kitchen. Luckily it seemed Spencer had returned to his room, so when he started rummaging through the freezer he wouldn't have noticed the red 'X' painted onto various packages of meats. He pulled out one of those, one in which the meat was sliced into thin strips...

He quickly fried them up, cracking some eggs into a skillet on the side. He was stacking up slices of toast as they finished browning along the way. Somehow he did all of this at once while making coffee for Spencer.

Upstairs Spencer could smell the wonderful aroma wafting through the rooms. He found himself following it downstairs with a pleased smile. When he reached the kitchen Edward was fixing a well proportioned plate and one that was excessively weighed down. He took a seat at the table for the second time since arriving at the hotel, feeling himself blush lightly when Edward smiled his way, that same crooked grin from the previous night. "Hope you like bacon and eggs," he says with a twinkle in his eye. He sat a plate before his guest as well as a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"Thank you," Spencer says thoughtfully, taking a sip. "Mm, kind of has the same taste as my favorite coffee back home." The blonde flushes as he sits beside him, rubbing his neck nervously.

"Heh, lucky guess." For the first time, Spencer watched Edward before he ate. He noticed that his eyes closed momentarily and his lips moved rapidly. It lasted only a couple minutes before he starting wolfing down eggs. So he prayed before eating, makes sense considering his background. Reid found himself digging in as well, the meat, though good, had a peculiar taste.

"What kind of meat is this?" The blonde shrugs.

"Canadian. I order it specifically." He went directly back into his eating, leaving Spencer to simply nod and continue on.

"It's delicious." The blonde smiles.

"Taste is a wonderful sense isn't it? Though our auditory, visual, and feeling capabilities can be tampered with and altered, only our taste and smell give us what is truly there. No matter the situation, everything has a definite taste or smell, it's simply our preferences that alter it. Taste, is my favorite." This made the agent think as the blonde sipped at some wine. There was definitely a great brain behind that beautiful face. Maybe, he could learn something from this New York heartthrob...

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><p><em>Oooh, such a chapter of diverse emotions. A bit of a dark side to our blonde hunk. Not only that but we got that sweet touchy moment between the two geniuses. How do you guys feel about knowing that Edward and Reid shared similar backgrounds? Or that he was once a doctor? Of course then we had a hot steamy ( pun intended ) shower scene with young Hopkins. ;) Sorry but not sorry. That's why the story's rated M. What's the deal with Edward's desire to push himself? His teeth? Leave your thoughts and ideas in reviews kiddies for we shall see who can piece these things together, and I haven't even listed all the clues here ;) Until next time!<em>


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